


No Hard Feelings

by wedjateye



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Weiß Side B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedjateye/pseuds/wedjateye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Gluhen, Side B territory. A conversation between Aya and Ken. Repost of old fic (2007) from Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Hard Feelings

Aya does his best to pull a smile onto his face as he answers the expected knock.

“Ken, welcome ba – ”

He can’t help faltering. Ken has been pushing but, even so, turning up on Aya’s doorstep with a suitcase in tow is pretty blatant.

“Oh relax, I just have something for you,” Ken replies tightly, shouldering past Aya without meeting his eyes at all.

Aya suppresses a sigh. “It’s good to see you,” he says and it isn’t entirely false. If he never again dreams that Ken’s plane has crashed into the ocean, it will be too soon. At least when Ken is around, irritation largely keeps Aya’s guilt at bay .

Ken stops in the middle of the room and looks about him, as if he’s never seen Aya’s sparse furnishings before. His knuckles are white in their grip on the suitcase handle.

“Ken?” Aya asks. Usually they’d be half way to naked by now, Ken’s tongue thrusting down Aya’s throat.

“I’m no good at this so I’ll just say it,” Ken blurts, finally allowing his gaze to flicker in Aya’s direction.

“What’s wrong?” Apprehension creeps along Aya’s spine.

“I cheated on you while I was in Tokyo,” Ken answers so hastily that  the words tumble together.

Aya can’t have heard him correctly. That’s the only explanation. Otherwise nothing makes sense. Certainly not this rush of relief.

Ken takes a ragged breath and elaborates; “Just once, with Om –, with Mamoru.” Ken’s lips twist. “For old times sake.”

“It doesn’t matter Ken, you don’t have to explain,” Aya interrupts. Ken has had far too much to put up with. If he wants to find warmth elsewhere, even in the most unlikely place, Aya has no grounds for reproach.

Ken scrubs at his face, looking truly shattered and Aya takes a step towards him, one hand raised to touch his cheek. Ken shakes his head violently, evading Aya by stepping away, pulling the suitcase after him, as if it is a lifeline.

“It’s okay Ken, I forgive you,” Aya says evenly, hand falling uselessly back to his side.

Ken shakes his head again, eyes squeezing closed. “Just shut up. Please.”

Annoyance flares briefly, then dies away as Ken kneels to unsnap the suitcase, his face set grimly.

Aya is shocked by the sound of his own harsh intake of breath. He’s almost more shocked by his reaction than by the sight of the katana he’d given up for lost. The walls and ceiling feel dizzyingly close. His legs aren’t sure whether they want to crumple or run.

“Mamoru wouldn’t tell me…” Ken trails off, perhaps realising Aya can’t take in the words.

“You found him?”

“Yes. Persia really needs better security,” Ken’s smile bares his teeth.

“You saw him for yourself?”

“I did.” Ken holds the katana out and Aya barely controls his desire to flinch away, compels himself instead to reach, to accept the finality of his hand closing once more around the hilt. He runs a finger along the flat of the blade. The metal feels cooler than it used to.

“He doesn’t remember,” Ken says, scrutinising Aya closely. “Omi at least told us the truth about that.”

“I see,” Aya answers. He wants to ask if the rest is also true. He can’t bring himself to say ‘wife’, much less...

“You must want something to drink. I bought some of that beer you liked.” Aya turns away, placing the katana on the table, wincing at the screech the blade makes against the glass. He’ll figure out what to do with it later.

Ken snorts in frustration. “Didn’t you hear me before? I fucked around on you.”

“You loved Omi, maybe still do in some ways. It’s understandable,” Aya answers. His back feels stiff, his posture unnatural.

“Yeah, it would be,” Ken replies quietly, the fight leaving him as quickly as it arrived, “except it wasn’t Omi. I fucked Persia and that’s not the same thing at all.”

Aya has no answer for that. No comfort to offer. No way of turning back the clock to avoid this tangled mess.

“He’s miserable,” Ken adds after the silence has stretched to breaking point.

Aya’s chest squeezes so tightly he has to force his lungs to expand. He pivots slowly to find Ken staring at him, his wide brown eyes bloodshot. He looks exhausted; haggard from the knowledge he carries and even so, Aya can just barely restrain himself from shaking it out of him.

Aya forces his fists to unclench, his shoulders to lower. Ken nods and his face relaxes. He fishes an envelope from his jacket pocket and tosses it to Aya.

“His so-called normal life is killing him. It’s obvious to anyone who knows him.”

“Knew him,” Aya corrects, trying to ignore the steady thump of his heart against his ribs.

“He looks worse than when we were in Europe,” Ken says flatly.

The envelope bends in Aya’s grip.

“I already called KR, said I’d need a week off for personal reasons.”

Aya raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t even have to tell him the same would apply to you. Everything you need to know is in there. I’ll think of you while I’m on a beach someplace a hell of a lot warmer than Japan. Not.”

Aya has no idea what to say. Ken shrugs and snaps the suitcase closed. He has the door open before Aya manages to pull himself together.

Ken looks back at the last minute. “No hard feelings, eh, Aya?”

For the first time in far too long, Aya wants to kiss Ken breathless.

“I hope not.”


End file.
